Beyond the bedroom
by de-anon
Summary: Gilbert and Lovino often seek comfort from one other for separate cases of unrequited love, though neither realize just how genuine their own friendship is.


**A de-anon for an any/any prompt on the kink meme. The OP asked for a friends with benefits scenario in which the two participants were actually genuine friends instead of only sexy buddies. So yes, not quite Prumano, but pretty damn close.**

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To the public eye Gilbert Beilschmidt and Lovino Vargas were only acquaintances who chatted a few minutes outside the conference room once or twice, perhaps to complain about their limited roles in world affairs compared to their brothers or something similar. Both of them preferred it that way, for Lovino had his eye on Antonio, and Gilbert was infinitely locked within a love-hate triangle with Roderich and Elizabeta and neither really wanted too many questions asked.

There could be no easy explanation for the relationship the two really had—-of the Friday nights spent sprawled on the couches in Lovino's townhouse, beer and wine in respective hands and the drone of a tv long forgotten to the blur of boredom. No one would understand frenzied chatter turned dull in the waning hours of the night until Lovino looked at Gilbert a certain way, and suddenly words gave way to fencing tongues and wanton moans. It didn't matter who topped (though damn, Lovino was hot when he took the initiative) or whose mouth was at whose dick. All that mattered were the teeth that skimmed sweat-sheened muscles to find purchase where they could, while rough palms grazed nipples, teasing out shivers and gasps and moans and excited the writhing of bodies already impossibly intertwined.

It never really stopped at sex between the two. Gilbert always looked forward to the telltale padding of bare feet on carpet after the naked Italian extricated himself from the Prussian's grip a few hours later. Gilbert knew to keep his eyes closed, but he could never quite suppress the smile that twitched at his lips when the creak of the fridge broke the silence of the impossibly early morning.

But this time, catching the sound of clinking of fork to plate, Gilbert could not contain a snort.

"I'm just throwing them away, dumbass," called the raspy voice from the kitchen.

Gil rolled off the couch and stumbled in to find Lovino frozen with fork halfway to mouth. A bit of potato dropped to the floor.

"Yeah, throwing it away, right into your stomach, huh." Gilbert shook his head, that cocky grin lighting up weary eyes as he scratched at his scalp, hoping to coax some volume back into matted hair. "Meh, don't worry about it. I won't let your little secret love of potatoes out." He leaned against the granite countertop that separated him from Lovino and blinked coyly up at him.

"I just hate to waste food, dammit. S'not like I actually enjoy this shit."

This earned another snort from the Prussian, but the smile died on his lips when he heard the buzz of his phone, which was still caught between the couch cushions in the next room over.

Lovino also hesitated and chose to swallow the retort that nearly tumbled from chapped lips. "Is it her?"

"The she-devil? Probably." Gilbert attempted to laugh off his obvious uneasiness, probably partially to mask the steady vibration of the phone. He rubbed at his neck until silence snuck back into the house, somehow no longer meshing correctly with the rosy tinges of the sunrise dusting the sheer curtain lace and casting a warm glow on tile floors and stainless steel.

"You didn't answer. She'll only give you hell for it later," Lovino reminded him. He rolled his eyes and took a few more bites.

Gilbert wondered if Lovino realized that the crease in his brow belied any vibe of indifference he tried to give off. Perhaps that's why he placed infinite trust in the cranky Italian, because he cared in spite of himself. "Probably. It's her own damn fault I'm not answering anyway. She tries so hard to rub her relationship with that stuck up piano prick in my face, then she expects me to play it cool when she decides to get all flirtatious with me and shit." He worked toward clenching and unclenching his fists and to stop grinding his teeth. "She knows I want her and she's using it to torture the hell out of me."

Not my damn fault you suck balls at relationships. And s'not like I do much better."

"At least Antonio treats you with respect," Gilbert muttered. He fiddled with the sink faucet, creaking it on and off then watching the water suck down into the drain.

Lovino shook his head as a bemused lilt rolled across a wry mouth. "That dumbass? He wouldn't get a clue about how much I love him if I fucking stapled a marriage proposal form to his damn forehead." He scowled down at the plate of potatoes and flicked a piece of onion toward Gilbert. "You and me? We're just opposite is all. Opposite but the same. Elizabeta knows too well that you want her and stupid Tonio has no clue…and yet we're both fucked because of it."

"Opposite, huh." Vivid red eyes met green. "Well it still sucks."

"Could be worse, dumbass. I still put up with you." Lovino said with a shrug. He took another bite and jabbed his fork menacingly in Gil's direction as a general warning to keep his mouth shut about the potatoes.

Somehow alleviated, Gilbert circumvented the counter, grinned, then threw an arm around Lovino's shoulder. "True. I could be saying all this to my idiot brother and not to my awesome little Italian friend." He nuzzled into his neck and planted a single kiss before Lovino shoved his face away.

"Yeah, yeah, you're fucking sappy. Get dressed. We're going out for breakfast and you're buying. Then you can call and sort out the shit with your obnoxious girlfriend. Hell, I'll even hold your hand." With that, Lovino dropped the plate into the sink—-still loaded with precious potatoes—-and wandered off toward the stairs, leaving Gilbert alone with his thoughts, but somehow feeling less lonely than he had been before.


End file.
